Leaning on the Walls of Jericho
by Zarius
Summary: Scott Trakker has an appointment with a rockstar, Vanessa's recruiting whip hands, and Brad's kids have left him with no choice but to use something that could bring the house down. Can T-Bob offer some kind of help?


**M.A.S.K**

**LEANING ON THE WALLS OF JERICHO**

**WRITTEN BY ZARIUS**

**Disclaimer: M.A.S.K and all related characters are properties of Kenner Toys and Cookie Jar Entertainment.**

* * *

As small trickles of water began to descend from the blackened October sky, T-Bob began to understand the importance of timing, and how impatient one can get when such well intentioned evenings are spoiled by the lack of keeping track of time.

For now the rain, the blight of all 'bots, was coming down, and still he had to wait, and not ask a single solitary soul for shelter beneath an umbrella, per his orders.

He had been told to simply stand and wait silently on the curb outside the nightclub by his newly appointed mistress Vanessa Turner. With the 'silence' part emphasised on her part greatly. He had been a consistent chatter-box on the way to the club in the car, irritating her and her husband to no extreme.

He couldn't help it this time around. He was processing the notion of excitement for the first time in what seemed like an age.

Vanessa and her husband Brad understood this, but they didn't have to endure it the whole evening. In any other normal circumstance, they'd have left T-Bob back home to mind the kids. Instead that task had now been appointed to Gloria Baker.

T-Bob wished he could always spend evenings like this...away from the nanny duties, away from the noise and nattering of playful and energetic younglings trying to wrestle him to the ground and tear him open in a dangerous game of doctors and nurses. He needed all sorts of therapy, even the kind reserved for those with mental wear and tear, to recover from those experiences. He envied Gloria, a much-needed human touch, and, even better, a woman's touch, to properly put Vanessa's daughters, Vice and Ella, and the troubles they brought the day, to order and to bed

T-Bob knew that, even with Brad feeling sympathy on his end, Vanessa wore the pants in their relationship, and her mood was always decisively prickly.

There would be times where he would experience her kindly side, but they were in direct proportion with the kind of salary she was making.

Right now, things had not been so rosy with the financial situations. Brad's fellow band members had taken to drink and gambling to cope with the pressures of financial woes, and had been pissing it all away in misery-induced sessions at the local and even the online casinos. Worse still, Brad had fallen out of favour with the cult scene, the consequences of a musical career defined by frequent no-shows and lack of commitment to the craft, angering many fans and deflating any attempt at commercial investment.

Vanessa, of course, understood. She had to. She was the reason for Brad's many failures while working on the side of the vipers so long ago, and she never took out her frustrations with the money on him or the kids.

As fowl-tempered as she could get, as salty a demeanour as she could normally display in front of people who knew little to nothing about her, she loved Brad and her family and would always have their backs in a crisis. She turned her keen and almost militant mind to arranging things for Brad so he would stand a better chance of capturing some of that old glory, even if the price of admission were mere pocket change. Times had changed and M.A.S.K was required very little these days, he could afford this small-time luxury.

Brad now had settle for being a warm-up act for many more established or up and coming acts. That's at least how he rationalized it in his own mind. Vanessa knew better...he was warming-up for never weres or men with five minute fame let alone fifteen.

T-Bob was along for the ride mainly because of an e-mail he had received, or rather Brad had received, informing him someone special was on their way, with a mad wild project of his own. A friend T-Bob knew wouldn't tell him to pipe down or not 'adjust' the radio to his very listening station even when the news headlines were being read out.

He would often prefer easy listening over awkward listening as the daily saga of murder and mayhem was given an open platform.

As a coach pulled over to the curb and the passengers disembarked, T-Bob stood upright, the rain slowly stopped descending, as if the heavens were intent on being kind to this moment. A moment of reunification.

Scott Trakker got off the coach and ran over to T-Bob, embracing him, which got very amused looks from passersby.

"Gee Scott, are you the right sort of age to get all cosy like this?" T-Bob asked, "I'm not exactly snug as a blanket"

"As usual T-Bob, you're a real source of comfort and reassurance" Scott sarcastically replied, and put T-Bob down, "Convert as fast as you can, we're riding into this club like a wild buccaneer and his stallion"

T-Bob did as he was told and converted to vehicle mode. Scott clambered on board and the two drove into the nightclub. A bouncer stopped Scott at the entranceway, but Scott was prepared, and show the bouncer a press pass. The bouncer glanced at the pass, and proceeded to let Scott in

"Scott, I don't think I can entertain you all the way here, you're much too heavy these days" T-Bob said

"You're a robot, you shouldn't be able to feel any strain" Scott said

"When certain screws attached to my seating are are coming loose as a result of your extra mass, I shouldn't have to" T-Bob said. Scott looked at the floor. Sure enough, there were the screws. He quickly got off. T-Bob converted back.

"Sorry T-Bob, I guess I should watch my weight"

"That's too much stress isn't it? Weight gain and having daughters are often a direct result of having that" T-Bob said.

Scott felt offended, "Hey, I don't have any kids yet, and this here is not a comfort food belly, I'm just a little too old to be riding kiddie bicycles" he said

T-Bob looked at him with an annoyed expression, Scott realized what he said

"Now THAT is a direct result of stress...a raspy little attitude" T-Bob pointed out

"I guess you're right, but I'm just excited, and a little scared. I get to interview rock sensation Arch Enigma in his dressing room for Kerrang's international publication, it's a real honour, and a fast way to pay my mounting bills"

"How privileged it must be to interview someone who's profile has never left Kerrang's channels" T-Bob remarked, "You don't have to waste a chance on someone with zero chance of making it big. Do your research, wait a few more years, you'll get someone a bit more important"

"Oh don't be like that T-Bob, conversing with fifteen minutes of famers can build up a lifetime's body of work that'll get me into the door with more established stars down the road"

"Fine, fine, just don't take the opportunity to share your own road stories with them, otherwise you stand a good chance of making them feel like nothing they do will ever eclipse what you and I saw in our young lifetime" T-Bob replied

The two made their way back to the back of the club, which was beginning to be packed with all sorts of young roustabouts. Behind the curtain, the two were astonished to find some familiar faces being lined up in a row, their lavishly detailed purple and violet snake tattoos, their scarlet Mohawks, and their combat gear, made their identity all too clear

"V.E.N.O.M flunkies" said Scott, "What are they doing at a concert? You don't suppose Enigma is their target do you?" he asked T-Bob

"More like they're Enigma's way in and way out of this dump" came an alluring, deep and moody female voice from behind them. Scott and T-Bob turned around and were face to face with Vanessa, Brad was standing next to her, brandishing and polishing up a plugged-in guitar, giving Scott and T-Bob a generous wave, knowing Vanessa was in no mood to express the same courtesy

"Well, Matt's punk kid, and without little Pocahontas at your side, I wonder how she's taking to life in the concrete forest?" Vanessa asked. Scott could sense a fist begin to form on his part, but he let it go.

"My girl's fine, we're really making something of ourselves, and this interview is going to open a lot of doors"

"Doors? Ha, at this rate, the only doors you'll open is as a bell boy in some cheap couples retreat downtown, overhearing everyone else experience the luck you'll only get when your little friend is much closer to the sort of world she prefers."

"I'm sorry about this Scott, she's not had the best of days" Brad said

"Hey, no taking sides now" Vanessa said, tapping Brad on the back of the head before patting it gently, "Especially since you paid for the heels that broke off on the way out of the house to the car"

"Funny, my seat almost broke off as well earlier" T-Bob said. Vanessa glared at him coldly, dismissing his attempts at joining in the conversation. T-Bob never could fathom why he always seemed like a non-entity whenever he tried to throw in an amusing line of conversation. He felt so unwanted. Scott could sense T-Bob's isolation, and was deeply angered by it

"So what are these goons doing here?" Scott said, referring to the enforcers

"I called in a few favours, they all need a paycheque since Miles is too busy paying his debts to society" Vanessa replied

"Some of these are wanted men, I've seen them on the news" Scott said

"Don't worry, they won't bite, I'm an expert at devenomizing as you all know, they're here to do their job and protect Enigma, then they'll slither back into their hiding holes. It takes someone with a bit of a grip to throttle the effort out of some of these enthusiasts massing beyond the curtain, wouldn't want anyone getting carried away"

The enforcers laughed, one took out a whip and activated a button on the left side of it, a bright pink torrent of energy ignited and covered the whip, crackling and coursing with power.

"An energy whip? Are you crazy? I thought you'd changed for the better Vanessa" Scott replied.

"Change, for me, is very much a moment too soon, besides I've got mouths to feed back home, I need to ensure my perks are at their peak in terms of efficiency" Vanessa replied and glanced over to a door to her right, "Your assignment's in there, go and get your interview, do it in five minutes, and then get out"

"Why did you _ever_ fall for her Brad?" Scott said. Brad was solemn.

Disgusted with the pair of them, Scott entered the door leading into Enigma's room.

T-Bob approached Brad, Vanessa got in his face

"No trouble from you or you'll be the first thing on the list these guys won't think twice about coiling around" she said

T-Bob nodded. Vanessa walked off to converse further with her hand-picked team of 'roadies'

"You didn't answer Scott's question" T-Bob said to Brad, "If she's starting to slip back into her old skin, maybe it's time to shed her"

"Look T, you shouldn't take every lousy thing Vanessa does to heart, you heard what she said, we've got kids to feed, and that is NO hocus pocus from me, for once anyway. I don't expect any of you to understand why she acts the way she does, only I know how much of it she means and how much she doesn't. Give her time, she'll show you how much charm one can find in a snake"

"What are you working on anyway?" T-Bob said, looking at the guitar Brad was fine-tuning

"This bad boy is all my own invention. I call it the 'horn of plenty', It's volume can reach beyond the confines of about six buildings, a whole two neighbourhoods could hear the output on this, unfortunately, that's precisely why I haven't tested it at maximum capacity, it'd be a hazard to the community me and Vanessa live in. I tried to make this a guitar that ran entirely on calculations on output put together by an online computer, but a crash earlier in the week means it's unpredictable. I've been running anti-virus software on it all night though and I think it might be passable, at least for this evening"

"Why ever did you bring it here then?" said T-Bob

"Because the kids broke all my other guitars as punishment for me sending them to their beds while their favourite show was on. Some really lousy overlong toy commercial, frankly, I don't know how any of those things stay on tv for as long as they do. I'm trying to dampen the noisier harmonics on the thing so we can play it safely. otherwise we may as well be leaning on the walls of Jericho"

"Give it to me" T-Bob suggested

"Really? You sure?" Brad said

"I can filter the loud noises through my harmonious dampening processors, they should be sufficient enough to play the Horn without damaging anything or disrupting the area"

"But it's still infected with a virus, you may catch it" Brad said in alarm

"What is a little silicone cold compared to you not getting any mint and keeping the kids happy? I'm game for this" T-Bob replied

Brad was hesitant, but knowing how much he needed the money for the gig tonight, he agreed, and plugged the horn into T-Bob's processors.

At first, things seemed to be alright, Brad was able to test the horn at a crisp and quiet level, but all too quickly, T-Bob began to react violently to the computer virus, his dampeners kicked into reverse, and the noise output accelerated to the point the whole nightclub shook and shattered.

Suddenly, the wall in front of Enigma's dressing room even fell apart, exposing the rock star to the crowd that, in a state of panic, had piled onto the stage and ran backstage to uncover the source of the incredibly loud noise. The instant they spotted Enigma, they chased him down. Vanessa's guards did their best keeping them at bay with the electrical whips, but they were too much.

Enigma tried to open one of the back doors, but found them locked, so he took a nearby stool and smashed open a window. He clambered out, cutting himself on the sharp glass, and took into the evening air, which was again ripe with rain. The amassed crowd sulked, having the common sense not to cut themselves on the shattered glass, and slowly walked back the way

Brad unplugged the Horn from T-Bob and he settled down again, his own anti-virus programmes swiftly kicking into life only AFTER the experience had passed, once again showing how 'reliable' his systems were.

The enforcers were quick to pounce on him, Vanessa followed them in tow.

"Want us to dismantle this tinpot tool boss?" said one of the mohawked enforcers, charging his whip

Vanessa held out her hand, "No, no, I think he's done us all a favor actually" she said, and looked to Brad, "Can you plug that into him again?"

"Vanessa, we'll attract the cops if we play at that capacity, we may even bring the building down"

"And who'll take credit for such anarchy? Who's reputation will be enhanced by the crowd? Certainly not Enigmas, he's long gone. This is your golden opportunity for a career renascence, the horn is your vision, now give them plenty of it"

Brad smiled and he and Vanessa kissed quite passionately, after disengaging from her, he turned back to Scott Trakker as he walked out of the changing room

"That's why I fell for her" he said

T-Bob walked up to Scott, "How'd the interview go?" he said

"To tell you the truth, I stopped recording him five minutes in, he just wasn't very compelling listening. He's too young for this kind of gig, too inexperienced, didn't say anything I've already heard so many times in other magazines. Maybe I'm just not as passionate for journalism as I thought I was"

"Always try a few dips in the pond before making a splash in the ocean Scott" advised T-Bob

"Well 'Bob, you did it again" Vanessa said, walking over to the two, "Your usual brand of incompetence got us all to a much better zone of comfort. We can easily pin the blame on this building being old and unsafe, it's state of deterioration acclerated by a malfunctioning, but well-intentioned machine and it's dysfunctional dampeners"

"You can't expect T-Bob to take the fall for you" said Scott, "He'd never stand for it"

"Golly Scott, I wish I could assure you on that, but it does make sense, I'm an old thing now, it'd be no better than blaming someone with Alzheimer's or some similar manner of mental wear and tear"

"Ugh, what is wrong with some of you, why are things never as simple as they used to be?" Scott said

T-Bob thought long and hard about it, and as Vanessa kissed him on top of his shell and went out on stage to assure the audience the show would go on with Brad as the heart and soul of the party, the robot realized that life with the Turners would guarantee him days like this for all the day he remained functional.

Things were never simple when graced with the charm of a snake


End file.
